Long Time Coming
by SereneCalamity
Summary: Mickey doesn't have that many people he can call his friend. But if he had to pick one, it'd be Ian. Problem is, he doesn't want to just be Ian's friend. GallaVich. OneShot.


_I absolutely love this couple but I've never written about them because I never felt as though I could do any justice to them. I still don't feel that way, but hey, I gave it a go._

 _Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, only the mistakes._

Mickey Milkovich let out a long groan as he looked down at the mess of a papers in front of him. They were a complete fucking mess, all of them crumpled, some of them stained with rings of coffee or other food that had been dropped on the bills that really should have been sorted somewhere rather than just slowly gathering on the coffee table. And now he was left here with all of these bills that he actually _needed_ to pay and couldn't just threaten to give him some more.

For example; the power bill.

A second being the water rates.

He was honestly about ready to scalp mother-fucking Phillip Gallagher.

In fact, he decided as he stubbed out the cigarette he had been puffing on, that's exactly what he was going to do. He was going to storm over to the Gallagher house and beat Lip into a pulp. It would help to get rid of the tension that had been building in his body for the past few days, due to work stress and the fact that he had only been able to relieve himself using his hand rather than another actual person for over two weeks now.

For a man who ran a whore house, he didn't have much time to actually enjoy the pussy that was available.

Although...It wasn't exactly pussy that he was after.

Mickey pursed his lips and shifted his eyes over to the couch in the corner of the room, where one of his bouncers was sitting. The kid might not look like much, but he was just as tough as any of the other men from their street, and he was smart, which made him a far more important ally. Ian Gallagher was also someone that he trusted completely and utterly, which Mickey couldn't say about many people.

He could barely say that about his own family.

Probably only about his sister, Mandy Milkovich.

But he could definitely trust Ian.

They had a bumpy start; back when they were younger. There was a misunderstanding between Mandy and Ian, and Mickey and his brothers and hunted him down to lay the beat on him. Ian had taken it like a man, but then it had come out a few months later that he was gay, and that nothing had actually _ever_ happened between him and his sister. Ian had worn the brunt of things well—and it helped that he had a family who loved him and would always defend him. Mickey had also been one of the bullies who had made life hard for Ian for some time, but for Mickey, it was because he was...Well, because he was jealous of him.

Ian had the family that would go to the ends of the earth for him, and while Mickey had a family that would happily go and beat someone up alongside him, it wasn't really love. It was more blood thirst.

And second, Ian was brave enough to be himself. Micky wasn't sure if he was gay, but he was definitely bisexual. Things had been a muddle in his head when he was younger and he couldn't quite figure it out in his head until older.

Ian was a big part of that.

It was just after Mickey turned nineteen, so when Ian was seventeen, and they had ended up alone, cleaning up after one of Mandy's parties. Mickey didn't know why he felt so uptight and tense around Ian, he could never hold his tongue, and he had ended up making a couple of harsh comments. Ian was a few drinks in and pretty high, and he had retaliated, making a snide remark about how Mickey was only being an asshole because he knew that Ian wouldn't suck his cock even if he asked nicely. Mickey had lunged at him, tackling him to the round, his fists flying out.

Ian had fought back.

And in the end, it turned out that Ian _would_ suck his cock. Mickey then returned the favour, before sleeping together, making Ian the first man, and also only man, that he had ever slept with.

Nothing had ever happened between them again, but there had been an understanding between them ever since. So when Mickey had taken over the whore house after his father had been lugged off to prison on a assault charge that he wasn't going to be able to get out of, he had asked Ian to work for him. It's not as though there was any classier jobs going for men like them.

"You should get some sleep," came a rough voice and Mickey blinked, coming back to the present to where Ian was rubbing his hand over his eyes and looking over at him. "It's after two."

"These books are a fucking mess," Mickey growled. "We need to get them sorted out. Where the fuck is your brother at? I pay him to do this shit."

"I can text him," Ian offered. "Although I think we should probably wait until the morning."

"Right," Mickey looked over at the time, remembering that Lip was actually the one kid from their neighbourhood who had a chance of getting out of this life, and he was going to college. He came back in the weekends, and that's when he sorted out their finances. At least, _usually_. It had been a few weeks, though, since he had come back, and that was how he was in this mess to begin with. "Well..."

"Get some sleep, jackass," Ian got up from the couch and walked over to where Mickey was sitting. He rested his hands down on his shoulders and squeezed. "Come on. You're not going to be able to figure this shit out by staring at it."

"Yeah, yeah," Mickey sighed and tipped his head backwards slightly, resting it against Ian's taunt stomach. They stayed like that for a long few minutes, Ian's hands on his shoulders and Mickey resting back against him. Sometimes it happened like this. It's not like they ever said anything about it, but these moments were the ones that Mickey held out for. Ian was the only person who made him feel this weird calm, and he was the only one who didn't want anything back from him. Then Ian shifted, leaning down slightly, his voice low.

"Go crash. I'll wake you up at six," his breath warmed Mickey's ear and it took everything the thug had not to spin around and grab Ian by the collar and smash his mouth down on the other mans lips. But instead, he stood up, and nodded at Ian, leaving the lounge and heading down to his bedroom. Ian watched him go, his eyes soulful, before letting out a breath through his nose and staring down at the mess of invoices and papers on the coffee. "Fuck," he groaned.

It was a good thing that Lip had tutored him through school.

Because this was going to take right up until he woke up Mickey at six.

* * *

Lip came by the next afternoon to get all the books in order. Mickey didn't say thank you, but then he never did. He just paid him and then muttered that he would see him next time. Lip stayed around for a bit, throwing an arm around Ian's shoulder and the pair of them laughing and joking, talking about something that had happened to their old neighbour and their older sisters best friend, Veronica Fisher. Mickey acted as though he didn't care about the relationship the two brothers had, most of the time he acted as though they were annoying him with how loud they got, but in all honesty, he was jealous.

All of the Gallaghers were close, which was something he had never really experienced. But then again, Ian just got on with people a lot easier than Mickey.

"I told you that it would all sort itself out," Ian grinned over at Mickey after Lip left.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Mickey muttered. "You wanna order take out? I'm fucking starving."

"What do you want?" Ian asked as he pulled out his phone and walked into Mickey's kitchen, where they kept the take out menu's pinned to the fridge. Mickey didn't answer for a long moment, following after Ian and watching the way the younger man moved with ease in his place. It had been a few years since they had started working together, and while Ian still officially lived with the rest of his family, he spent most of his time at Mickey's. And Mickey liked that.

Ian made everything better.

"Yo," Ian let out a laugh, waving his hand in front of Mickey's face. "I said 'what do you want'?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm thinking!" Mickey protested, smacking Ian's hands away from his face. "Chinese."

"We had Chinese last night," Ian pouted, looking younger than his twenty-two years.

"Pizza," Mickey suggested.

"We had pizza for _lunch_ yesterday," Ian moaned.

"Well if you fucking have a better idea, then you decide," Mickey made a face at him and then stalked over to the fridge, grabbing out two beers. He tossed one over to Ian and then snapped the lid off the in his own hand.

"Maybe we could go to the supermarket and buy some shit?" Ian began, raising an eyebrow as he stepped a little closer to Mickey, invading his personal space bubble, but it was okay, because Ian was the only one allowed to do that. "And we could actually cook dinner, rather than order it in?"

"Cook?" Mickey looked disgusted. "I don't fucking cook, Gallagher."

" _I_ can cook," Ian said with a laugh.

"Oh, you're gonna cook for me? Like you're my bitch or something?" Mickey teased him with a raise of his eyebrows.

"I can cook for _us_ , like I'm your _friend_ ," Ian corrected him with a laugh. He pulled his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans and looked inside, nodding as he saw a couple of notes there. "I'll go down to the corner store, be back in like fifteen minutes. And I'll cook us dinner. Be better than that shit we get every other night."

"Thought you liked that other shit," Mickey stated as he pulled out his own wallet.

"Yeah, it's all good some of the time, but not _all_ of the time," Ian said. "It's fine, I can cook us dinner."

"Okay, here," Mickey shoved over some notes from his own wallet.

"Nah, it's fine, I've got it—"

"Just take the fucking money, Gallagher," Mickey said in exasperation as he shoved the money forward. Ian's grin never faltered, completely used to Mickey's abrasive behaviour, as he took the money from him and then headed out the door, giving Mickey a quick salute with two fingers to his forehead by way of farewell. Mickey stared after the closed door for a few minutes before looking around the kitchen. He didn't know that Ian could even cook, but then he guessed that it made sense. He was one of the eldest in his large family, so it wasn't surprising that he would need to know how to cook.

Problem was, hardly any cooking happened in _this_ household.

He wasn't even sure that they owned pots.

Or a serving spoon.

Mickey started looking through the shelves under the bench and was surprised to find they did actually have cooking stuff. Probably from when Mandy lived at home—she used to be the one who made them dinner most of the time. She had moved out a couple of years ago, which was for the better. The one person in the world that Mickey could never stand up to was his father, and Mickey couldn't stop him from hurting his sister. Lip had managed to take her away from it all, and keep her safe in the middle of the city.

Ian wasn't the only Gallagher that Mickey owed something to.

Even though he tried to act as though he didn't care about either of them, that they were expendable, and told himself that he would pummel them if either of them crossed him, it wasn't true.

He wouldn't touch either of the Gallagher boys.

Hell, he would touch any of the Gallaghers.

"Mickey?" Ian was standing in the doorway, and Mickey spun around in surprise, not realizing how much time had passed since Ian had left. "Are you okay?"

"What?" Mickey jerked his chin forward. "Course I am."

"Okay..." Ian let out a short laugh. "I've said your name like three times, man."

"Yeah, well, I'm fine," Mickey snapped. "You get the food or what? I'm hungry."

"Maybe that's why you're acting as though there's something up your ass," Ian muttered as he walked over to the bench and put down the two bags he was holding.

"There's nothing up my ass," Mickey growled.

"Then maybe that's the problem," Ian sent a lopsided smirk over at Mickey, who just narrowed his eyes in response. Ian laughed and went back to unpacking the grocery bags, turning his back to Mickey. Mickey watched him; watched the way that his shoulders were shifting as he started looking around for a chopping board and a knife. He licked his lips as Ian started humming, starting by peeling the potatoes.

"Hey, Ian?" Mickey began.

"Mm?" Ian hummed as he began quartering the potatoes. When Mickey didn't say anything else, Ian paused and turned around, and raised his eyebrows when he saw his friend standing close behind him. "What's going on, Mickey?" Ian asked. Mickey looked nervous, his eyes darting from side to side before he lunged in and captured Ian's mouth. There was a look of surprise on Ian's face but he dropped what he was doing and turned around properly, wrapping his arms around Mickey's body and pulling him close.

It was kind of a mess, as Mickey forced Ian's lips apart and slid his tongue into his mouth. Ian groaned, his blunt fingernails scratching down Mickey's bare arms. Ian's hands found Mickey's hands, and he linked his fingers together with his own. This time, it was Mickey who faltered, taken aback by the way his stomach twisted at Ian's actions. But he recovered quickly, and then they were scrabbling at one anothers clothes.

Ian seemed to take charged, pushing Mickey backwards, so that they were backing out of the kitchen and toward the bedroom.

"Fuck, Ian," Mickey grunted as they reached his bed. The last of their clothes were shed and Mickey's legs buckled as he came in contact with the mattress. Ian pushed him down and then stared down at him, his cheeks flushed as he met Mickey's eyes.

"How long have you wanted to do that?" Ian asked, although it didn't sound arrogant as he said it.

"A while," Mickey admitted ruefully, his eyes travelling down Ian's taunt body and his throbbing cock, unable to stop himself from licking his lips.

"But you were too fucking stubborn to do anything about it?" Ian smirked.

"Something along those lines," Mickey rolled his eyes. "Now stop fucking around and start fucking _me_ instead."

 _Let me know what you think!_


End file.
